To Remember
by TheWhoufflePrincess
Summary: The Doctor visits a grave ever so often, of a certain Clara Oswald he just can't seem to put his finger on who she is, but perhaps this young woman could provide insight.


He didn't quite understand his affinity to this grave.

Although he could be saving planets, going about adventures, or perhaps just doing noteworthy things, he was instead travelling his way to 21st century, to Earth, to a very specific place. He had never really been attracted to graves, really. They just reminded him of his companions that would just slip away though his fingers, as the dates engraved on the gravestones represented how little life they had in their small bodies.

Nevertheless, he stood at Clara Oswald's grave, staring down at the plot with dates that begin and end with such a short number. Fresh flowers and cards dedicating themselves to Miss Oswald pointed out how she was loved. He could imagine his own grave- nobody would do this for him. He made too many human friends, none of which could travel to his graveyard without his TARDIS. He had more enemies in space, who would never pay homage to his memory. They'd rejoice.

He frowned at the thought as he sat besides the tombstone, rereading the name over and over again. He didn't get it. Clara Oswald? The name didn't ring any bells to his mind, but his hearts seemed so grasped towards the idea of her.

"Coming for Clara?" A voice asked, to which he turned to. It had a Lancashire lilt, something he could grasp on. It sounded like music to his ears, causing his hearts to skip a beat or two. Looking towards her, he was immediately drawn to her dark brown eyes. Her eyes, rich like the Earth's soil and a feel as though it was home made him uncomfortable, especially as they seemed to inflate. It reminded him of himself, in a sense, back when he was bow tie. Bow tie had such young eyes, yet they had seen trial and tribulation. Her whole appearance, from the dress to the face; it just seemed to plunge his hearts deep in an unexplained rabbit hole filled with spikes, poking him in places he never thought he'd feel again- it was good and bad.

"Perhaps. You?" He asked in response, his voice gruff and scratchy in comparison to her smooth one. She smiled softly, smiling in a way that was ever so bittersweet, with her dimples crinkled. It brought a smile to his own face. He didn't get it, just like he didn't get Miss Oswald.

"She was close to me. Very close, like we were the same person." She said in response, eyes downcast as she read the date. "She was gone too soon."

"I agree. She could have done much more in her life. Many people adored her as well," He murmured, "People are still grieving."

"The idea of grief is so...strange."

"Hm?"

"Grief...it just fades, you know? In months, soon people will forget about Clara. Her immediate family will remain in grief, but soon it will just be a dull pain of that feeling that someone should be there, in the flat or in the teaching position. You would think grief hangs above someone's head like a curse, but it all fades just like life." The woman chuckled, "Sorry, I went on like that, didn't I?"

"It was poetic." He murmured, "I do agree, though, to an extent."

"To an extent?" She questioned. The Doctor sighed.

"I find grief to never fade. You are right that it will be a dull pain, but when one finds something that just reminds them of the person, all that pain that was once dull becomes fresh, like a stab to the heart. You could feel it all. You could feel everything." He looked to the grave, "I'll be honest, I really don't know why I keep coming here, but that feeling, that broken feeling of pain is with me and I don't understand it."

"You don't have to understand it." The woman said, "The world isn't meant to be understood."

"That's not the point," he responded stubbornly, "I need to understand it. I know I should understand it, it's just who I am, but Clara, she's just an enigma- a mystery, just waiting to be solved."

"Who was she to you?" Was this woman full of questions?

"I told you, I don't know." He bit out, starting to become frustrated with the company.

"I don't mean it in that regard. What do you feel when you see her grave?" She pressed, peering directly at him. He looked to her, before sighing.

"I feel the grief. A grief I don't understand. I keep looking at this grave and each glance is another stab wound to the chest. I know I should know who she is, but I think amnesia has hit me, deeply." He muttered, "I'm drawn to this place."

"I could tell." The woman responded.

"How?"

"I've been visiting. You keep coming over, but I just wait until you leave. It'd be improper to bother you, but curiosity did overcome me." She shrugged, "You just look...so sad."

"You're one to talk, with your inflating eyes. Are they broken?" The phrase seemed to resonate with the woman, as she flinched.

"Is that how you talk to everyone?" She fired back, but it was clear the mood had shifted.

"No, but it's too hard to just not point out." He said, staring directly at her. It sincerely looked as though she was trying not to cry. Was it something he said?

"Whatever you say." She rolled her eyes, "I have to go. It was nice to see you. Hopefully you figure out why you are drawn to this place." He thanked her and she walked away. In moments, there was a sudden draft and a light wheezing, causing some of the cards to move, but luckily all were taped, except for one. He caught the card in his hand, opening it from curiosity.

It was a picture of the woman he had just met and a young boy in a student uniform. The card read, _"I miss you, Miss Oswald. Hopefully you are in a better place."_

He raised an eyebrow. He looked to Clara's grave. It said nothing about being a sister to anyone, as it only stated she was a great daughter, friend, and teacher. Who was he talking to? Was he becoming insane to the point where he was hallucinating Clara? But he had no real knowledge of what she looked like. He racked his brain in any sort of attempt to piece it all together, but it, just like the entire mystery about the grave, made no sense to his mind. He growled in frustration.

"Who the hell were you?" He asked out loud, the card with the picture clasped tightly in his hand.


End file.
